In the Arms of Another
by spottedhorse
Summary: Sometimes we just need a hug- from the right person.


Just a short little piece, too long to be a drabble but more of that than anything else. RL has reminded me that sometimes the simple things, like a hug, can mean so much more than words and make the world seem a bit more tolerable. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

It was a strange thing, she thought, how the simple thing like being held in the arms of another can be so helpful, healing, and perfect. But only if those arms belong to a certain someone, a special someone; the _right_ someone.

It had been a miserable day. The children were all out of sorts at school, Emily Peterson had fallen ill and her mother had actually accused them of making her daughter ill. Then as she walked through the village anxious to get home and away from the horrible day, John Mosby stopped her to give her a piece of his mind about the new curriculum that had been handed down for the schools, as if she had anything to do with it. She hated it as much as he did but there was nothing she could do. And if that wasn't bad enough, in her haste to get away from him and the others who had joined the conversation she had caught her foot on the pavement and twisted her ankle so badly that she landed in a heap just as she turned to walk up the hill to home. So now her ankle hurt, her knee was scraped, and by the time she crossed the threshold her mood was crap.

But he had been standing in the outer office of the surgery flipping through a stack of mail and when he saw her had dropped the stack and rushed to her. "What happened?" he asked in a tone that she had only recently come to recognize as his 'I'm upset that you are hurt' tone.

Sinking into his embrace, she let the tears of frustration that she'd been holding escape. "It was an awful day," she whimpered into his chest.

She felt his arms tighten around her and the sigh that escaped him. And then his lips rested on her head, a new habit he was forming whenever she needed consolation. He didn't speak and she guessed he was perplexed and thought silence was better than saying the wrong thing. They stood there another moment or two until her tears were back under control and he loosened his grip. "Your knee... did you fall?"

"Ummm... yeah. Turned my ankle too."

"Oh Louisa..." he said in that deep grumble of his. But he didn't sound angry, more like... sympathetic? "Let's get you into the other room and clean it up. And I'll examine your ankle." He held her, supporting her as they walked to his consulting room. He helped her get seated on the couch and pulled his cart over. Settling on his little stool, he began to clean the scrapes on her knee. She watched in fascination as he concentrated on his task.

Martin didn't do well with blood but her scraped knee hadn't produced enough to be overly concerning. He grunted as he completed his task and covered the area for protection. Then lifting her leg, he started to look up at her face but his eyes caught sight of her skirt, or rather what was beneath it. Blushing slightly, he "mmmm'd" and turned his attention to her ankle. Still shy, no matter that they were well and truly married and had a child, her Martin still had the capacity to surprise her. Most men would have let their eyes linger, but not Martin. Now later, behind the bedroom door, things might be completely different as his shyness gave way to other responses.

She watched as he pressed his thumb into her ankle, manipulated it too and fro, and then flexed it. "Does any of that hurt?"

"All of it does a little," she replied. "But not too much."

"Mmmm, doesn't appear broken. A mild strain, I think. Need to keep it elevated." He glanced up at her again, a certain glint in his eyes that told her he was contemplating her with her feet elevated, in bed, and at his mercy.

He helped her down from the couch and wrapped her in another hug and that's when she had the thoughts about how perfect things could be in the arms of the right person. Because for Louisa, being held firmly in Martin's arms at that moment, the day was suddenly better; much, much better. Yeah, it was strange that rough, gruff Martin Ellingham could be the source of such tenderness and comfort. And yeah, in that moment life was perfect.


End file.
